Taking A Stand: I’m old and poor, but I am happy
It’s my birthday. I’m old. Send me money because I don’t have any.
By my calculations during one of my planning meetings as I sat atop the riding lawnmower at my parents’ house at the young age of 17 (that’s where I did some of my best thinking by the way) I was to be rich by age 21. I envisioned living on a ranch somewhere, riding the range on horseback (even though I didn’t really know how to ride a horse since mine jumped the fence and ran away when I was 6). I, that day on the riding mower, knew I was destined to be filthy rich and perhaps somewhat famous.
Of course, one problem with my vision was the fact I skipped the part about how I was going to amass my fortune at such a young age. I suppose I left it to fate whereby a rich relative (of which I have none) would kick the bucket and leave me an inheritance, or that I’d win the lottery (of which Tennessee also has none). Perhaps I thought some huge corporation would seek me out for my mental prowess (of which I have plenty) and offer me seven figures for the pleasure of my company.
Well, today I’m 38 and broke. Hey, I’m not complaining seeing as I have it a lot better than most people. I have a house, something that used to be a car, a great family, and a bunch of friends. However, it’s a life far removed from the limo-riding, jet-plane-flying playboy I thought I’d be at 17.
Of course, I suppose all of us have undershot the expectations we had when we were young. Very few people envision living paycheck to paycheck through the meat of our adults lives. But let’s face it, that’s how 99 percent of us live. That is, the ones who are lucky enough to get a paycheck at all.
Had I become that limo-riding, jet-plane-flying guy, I would have basically become everything I have grown to hate. Face it, very few people amass a fortune without climbing to the top over the backs of those on the bottom. And, most of those who do get to the top, waste a lifetime achieving their success and wake up one day at the age of 38 or much older and realize they never stopped to enjoy life. Instead, they spent each waking hour on the quest for fame and fortune.
I think that’s why most fortune stories include tragedies like drug addiction, multiple divorces, mental problems and dysfunctional lives. Interviews I’ve watched with people who “made it to the top” seemed a bit bitter they had squandered what could have been a normal life.
And there are ghosts left behind with success, including the little people you betrayed along the way. Then there’s opportunities for happiness you passed up like marrying the silver spoon, daddy’s girl, neurotic fashion model who’s now a bulimic chain smoker with bags under her eyes, having an affair with the gardener AND the milk man instead of settling down with your high school sweetheart (who’s still a hottie) and having 2.5 blue-eyed kids and living in a little house in the country.
Well, I live in that little house in the country, have 1.0 blue-eyed kids, my wife (well, she was in high school when I met her) enjoys eating (but is NOT fat) and I am both the milkman and gardener at my house. I’m everything a successful man wishes he could be plus I’ve got the looks, most of my hair and all of my original teeth. I’m not rich but at least I can safely say I’ve never sold out and have never kissed any posteriors to get what I have.
But, it is my birthday today and I won’t turn down your money if you want to send it.
(Duane Sherrill is a reporter for the Standard. He can be reached at 473-2191 or by e-mail at [email protected].)